Cael

Cael’s POV

 

DesWillow.

 

This city feels caught between eras. Old bones hold up a shiny, ever-changing surface. Cobbled streets wind under neon lights, and stone buildings hide behind glass shops. Market stalls, run by vendors from every background, crowd every alley, their awnings heavy with herbs, charms, and tech that almost seems magical. The air is thick with the smell of fried food and ozone, a mix of magic and city grit.

Tourists crowd the streets, snapping photos of gargoyle towers and the old palace. Locals weave past, faces hard, unease flickering under practiced indifference. This city is a melting pot of all kinds of people. Still, local voices are colored by unease. DesWillow is neutral ground, but power struggles simmer on every block. Now, leaders from across the province arrive.

And today, the summit would shove them all into one gilded hall.

Guards fill the city. Wolves move in tight groups, watching all. Fae warriors pass in pale armor, blades shining with magic. Vampires stand in dark doorways, always alert. Witches wear muted colors and glow with protective spells. Each group watches the rest, and peace feels fragile.

The guards from each court only stoke the unrest among locals, but humans passing through the city don’t notice.

For humans, it was a festival. For everyone else, it was a spark on a powder keg.

Even as an alpha, I’m another rogue here, lost among loners. DesWillow has no wolf rulers, so I go unnoticed. This city is neutral ground. In Duskreach, alphas never trespass. I broke that rule for one reason: the witch exchange. I still don’t know what was in that bag.

The thought of the witch brings her face to my mind.

The wolf inside me bristled, senses sharpening, restless and hungry for answers.

Mate.

The word hit me hard, hunger rising fast. I pushed it away. Not now. Not here. I can’t show weakness at the summit. This is my chance to watch the High Alpha, see how strong he is, and figure out how to get my revenge.

The scent of coffee curled through the street, rich and inviting. I stopped outside a tiny café wedged into a crooked corner.

I couldn’t move, unsure if it was my feet rooted to the spot or the wolf in me refusing to budge. I looked inside.

There she was.

My mate.

 

 

Hana’s POV

 

I inhaled my coffee, warmth soaking into my bones. After my run through the city, I found this place. Driving through what felt like a hundred towns to reach DesWillow, I needed it.

If I had my way, I’d have flown. But only the High Witch could ride a broom outside the Shadowlands. Even the heir to the throne was bound by that rule.

Which, honestly? Stupid.

Flying beats traffic any day.

I sat in the back of the café, headphones out, sipping my drink. The nutty flavor lingered.

I sat in the back of the café, headphones out and resting on the table, sipping my drink. The nutty flavor lingered on my tongue.

But there was another scent in the air—one much stronger than coffee.

I opened my eyes....

I nearly sloshed hot coffee down my front when I saw him. That damn alpha from Duskreach, leaning against the counter like he owned the air itself. He smiled, lazy but sharp, and my stomach flipped traitorously.

“What the fuck!” I blurted, voice louder than I meant. A few humans glanced over, then went back to their lattes.

“Hello to you too, witch.” His voice slid smoothly, like velvet stretched over steel. There was humor there, but also something darker lurking beneath.

“I thought you were a creep back at that bar, but no, you’re worse. A stalker. Did Crescent Moon’s alpha catch you snooping and boot your ass out? So now you’re trailing me?”

My words tumbled sharp and fast. My heart thundered. I told myself to stand, call on my wards, do something. Instead, I sat, pinned by his eyes.

He moved fast, suddenly standing over my table, his face close enough that I could feel his breath. My heart skipped. He smelled like earth, smoke, and pine, and I felt heat rush through me even though I tried to fight it.

“Oh no, little witch.” His voice dropped, low enough only I could hear. “If I were stalking you, you’d never catch me. This?” His gaze dipped briefly to my lips, then back up, slow enough I noticed. “This is fate.”

My cheeks burned, and I hated it. “You’re insufferable,” I whispered, but it came out weaker than I wanted.

“Maybe.” He smiled, all teeth. “But your pulse says you don’t mind.”

I drew in a sharp breath, glaring at him while my body betrayed me. Damn him. Damn myself. Damn the way my fingers twitched—to either push him away or yank him closer by the collar.

Instead, I raised my cup between us like a shield. “If fate wants us crossing paths, fate can shove it. I want my coffee in peace.”

Something flashed in his eyes, maybe heat, maybe amusement, maybe a promise, before he stood up slowly, as if he was holding himself back.

“As you wish,” he murmured. Then, with a half-smirk, he slid into a chair at the table across from mine, settling in like he had no intention of leaving.

I groaned quietly. Fate could take a hike.